


Breathless

by Marguaery



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marguaery/pseuds/Marguaery
Summary: “I’ve been yearning this for a long time, Ushijima-kun. So please, don’t leave me waiting any longer.”3 minutes is the maximum time which a person can stay alive without oxygen, the so called Breaking Point. How long are you able to stay alive holding back your feelings? Your breaking point is much closer than you imagine, and it might lead you to freedom or sorrow. It all depends on him.[Professional Player!Ushijima X Journalist!Reader]
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi & Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 177





	1. how you meet him

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't keep reading if you care about spoilers.  
> This story was written based on the recent manga chapters, 394 e 395.  
> This chapter is spoiler-free, but the others won't be. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing!

He makes you lose your breath.

You’re just another teenager girl watching his game, just one of the many with Shiratorizawa’s uniform and screaming your school’s cheer behind the “Be Courageous Warriors” flag. You’re not even one of the beautiful cheerleaders, standing in their lovely purple and blue skirts, holding the yellow pompoms.

You’re just a side character. Although, watching that boy slam the volleyball on the other side of the court using his left hand in the blink of an eye makes you stop breathing. Of course, no one’s notices how you halt the chanting halfway, how your hands fall to the side of your body. They are too concentrated doing their best to raise Shiratorizawa’s morale.

“What’s his name?” You ask your friend, the one who persuaded you to watch the volleyball game, saying you should go out a bit instead of spending the whole day studying for your college entrance exams. “The one who smashed the ball like it was nothing?”

“That’s our team’s Super Ace,” she smiles brightfully, as if she was the one who scored. “Ushijima Wakatoshi. You really don’t know him? Everybody in school does! He was even featured as the number one ace in a Miyagi volleyball magazine!”

“Magazine?” Your eyes can’t leave the court, or more specifically, the tall boy whose physical appearance and proportions lure your whole attention. “He must be amazing.”

“He is so amazing that even someone like you, that always runs from PE classes, recognizes him immediately.” She laughs at your reaction and finishes the conversation, going back to cheering.

Your heart beats loudly against your ribcage every time you realize he’ll hit the ball.

You don’t know why, but it’s the first time you’re lured to a sport.

You don’t know most of the rules and feels too shy to bother anyone, so you just watch.

You cheer, you get tense.

You watch him from afar.

You pray for him to win.

(you cry when Shiratorizawa loses)


	2. how you get to know him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't keep reading if you care about spoilers.  
> This story was written based on the recent manga chapters, 394 e 395.

It’s only two years later that you see him again. You’re a Journalism and Communication student at University of Tokyo and an intern in a sports magazine – only because you weren’t able to get the job in other magazines you applied to. It was tricky in the beginning; you had to attend classes, do assignments, study to tests, learn everything you could about a vast list of sports and still help your superior to write articles.

It’s not a surprise when your boss tells you he will be one of the many pressmen responsible for interviewing Japan’s volleyball team. Your function is to tag along, holding heavy folders and making sure he has warm coffee available until the end of the shift.

You knew in advance you would see Ushijima Wakatoshi, this time not on television. Even though, seeing him again - this time wearing Japan’s uniform, makes you astonished.

He seems even larger and more muscular than before, an admirable silhouette. His expression as stoic and intimidating as ever – your boss doesn’t like him, always rambling something about his robotic behaviour, but you rather think of him as a calm and rational person, someone that is sincere and blunt.

It’s a long conference, your high heels each time bothering you more as you uncomfortably change position on the chair or get up to get more coffee for your boss. The whole Japan volleyball team is sitting besides a long white table with microphones, but it’s the coach who answers most of questions from the press – inquiries about the reasons of Japan’s defeat.

You try to pay attention, writing as many information as you can because you know you’ll have to help later with an article. Nevertheless, you have to scold yourself for staring too long at Ushijima, trying to decipher his expression – it’s stoic, but somehow you can sense a hint of somber in his olive eyes.

_It’s obvious he’s heavyhearted. He lost. You’re not special for noticing it._

(even so, you keep beaming him for the whole event)

After a long day you finally let out a loud yawn and stretch your back procrastinating a bit while your boss is talking with his colleagues, waiting for you two to head back to the office. You wash your hands once again before leaving the bathroom and you’re about to yawn again when you hear someone next to you.

“Have we met before?” Ushijima Wakatoshi stands before you like a wall, and you jump a few feet back due to the surprise, heart beating fast. You deducted the team had left a long time ago, but somehow the olive haired man is right in front of you.

“What?” It’s the only word you’re able to speak, still trying to gather your thoughts together and not allow the exhaustion to wash over you.

“You were staring at me during the whole conference.”

“It wasn’t during the whole conference!” you answer before being able to control your own words. You feel warmth spreading your cheeks, but Ushijima doesn’t seem to be bothered or to perceive the reason for your reaction. “I mean, I was staring, but just a bit.”

“Have we met before?” he asks again bluntly, eyes watchful towards you as if, somehow, he distinguishes you from somewhere he can’t quite tell.

“I was a student at Shiratorizawa as well,” you tell him your name, but he doesn’t seem to recognize it. Even though, you can see the way his shoulders became less stiff _probably happy that you’re not a weird stalker or something_. “I’m an intern in a sports magazine, that’s why I was in the conference. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something, it’s my first time at an event like this. I didn’t mean to gawk at you or anything.” You lie easily, unable to tell him that the real reason.

“I acknowledge your face, but couldn’t tell from whence. I was curious.” He slips his hands inside his pocket’s jacket and lightly bows his head towards you, announcing his leaving. “Good luck on your article.”

“Thank you.” It’s all you can say while watching his back distancing. His retiring makes you feel somehow _empty_. You heart slowly decreases its beating and the melancholy of good old days overrun your mind.

(for some reason, you wish you knew him before that game)


	3. how you realize your feelings

_“Japan suffers close loss, star “Young canon” misfires”_ is the title of your boss (and your own) article and beneath it, a picture of Ushijima being blocked in one of Japan’s games. You’re not happy with it (and neither is your friend, who calls you immediately asking for explanations since she’s Ushijima’s fan), but your boss last words are incontestable. Your frustration is soon forgotten as six overloaded months go by with tests, classes, assignments from university and from the internship – but you still find time to discover that Ushijima’s is in America.

You’re very close to a meltdown when a director somehow discovers that you went to Shiratorizawa’s Academy and decides that it’s an astonishing idea for two alumni to meet once again in an interview. He gives you two weeks off to work on this, and even though you _really_ need some time for yourself, you still try to argue telling him that you two were never close during High School. He shrugs you off, later sending an email with the address of the studio, date and the time of the meeting.

You’ve never been so nervous. You struggled to choose your questions (although they were immediately accepted by your boss), to choose your clothes (why were you so worried about how you’d look in front of him?) and even during the uber ride your hands were shaking and you were rechecking every single item on your purse each five minutes.

_You couldn’t tell if you were you nervous for your first leading interview or because the one you were interview was an old crush._

You met a colleague in front of the building thirty minutes early, and you two headed to tidy the room. It was a simple interview, no cameras because the article would be published online – and that made you a little bit less anxious. Ushijima and his agent arrived ten minutes earlier and greeted both of you politely. You wore your best smile and professional expression, encouraging Ushijima to sit in front of you as his agent and your colleague went to the back, watching from afar.

“Didn’t expect to see you again.” Are his first words towards you, as you arrange your notes to begin the interview. His attempt to communicate surprises you – you watched too many of his interviews and knows that he usually answers straight was is asked; so directly that many times it come off as rude to some people.

“I was actually hoping to see you again,” you answer while fixing a rebel lock of your hair, a timid smile on your lips “since I work in a sports magazine, being able to interview a volleyball star is a huge honor. Even if it only happened because we studied at the same school.”

He is silent and you try no to take it as a bad indication, choosing instead to start your questions. They are all quite direct and most of the time you have a hard time gathering as much details as you can, since Ushijima kept brief and short answers. Even though, you tried your best to keep as informal as the circumstances allowed, mainly when you asked about High School times.

For you, it was over as soon as it started. You wanted to ask him so much more, you wanted to be more personal, inquiring how he felt during his first spike, about his old teammates, his club activities after school – his dreams and fears. He interested you, much more than he knew and the most direct he was, the more you wish you could know about him.

Nevertheless, you knew your limits, and you learned to love you job too much to risk losing it for being nosy and unpolite. So, you stood up, bowed and thanked him a lot for conceiving his precious time to the interview, letting him know that you would send news to his agent as soon as the article was published.

_Say something now, or it’ll be too late. You won’t see him again for months._ _Maybe years_.

You bustle your folder; your lips move but no sound comes out. His agent is already heading towards the exit, after greeting and thanking you. Ushijima stands a minute more right in front of you, as if expecting you to say something – you two peers at each other, as if unable to say goodbye.

_As if both of you want to stay just a bit longer._

Someone calls your name, and the moment is over. Ushijima bows at you and also heads to the exit, following his agent. Once again, you stare at his wide back, unable to ask him to wait for you. Unable to let him know how much your heart batters in your chest when you see him, and how miserable you feel when he leaves.

_It’s a stupid platonic love and you know it._

(even though, your colleague asks why there are tears rolling down your cheeks)


	4. how you start believing in destiny

One of your best friends gets invited to a fancy press party – she works in a famous fashion magazine and the minute she get the news, she is calling you to go shopping for an extravagant dress for both of you – _because you’re obviously tagging along with her, it’s the event of the year, a huge chance to make contacts, get a better job and, of course, it will be full of rich bachelors_.

You don’t want to spend your salary in a fancy dress only to be dull in an uptown party, but your friend doesn’t want to go alone; so, you tell yourself that you deserve a break after your finals and accept. You have a bit of savings that you can use for a more elegant dress, and staying a few hours with influencing people couldn’t hurt.

You regret your words almost immediately after being allowed to enter the party, well, _party_ isn’t the best word for it considering you’re at a rooftop in one of most famous buildings of Tokyo. The parlor is filled with people holding champagne glasses, wearing diamond rings, famous designer’s dresses and, probably, shoes that could pay 6 months or more of your rent. Oh, _of course_ there are glass walls all over – with a breathtaking view of Tokyo at night and an endless pool that is beautifully illuminated.

You try to turn around and leave, but your friend grabs your arms and hold you at her side. You feel weird standing next to so much luxury – you were never poor, but you also never had the chance of knowing a place and people with so much money.

Your black dress, chosen so carefully by your friend (who knows much more about fashion than you) seems clunky and unfit to the environment and you’re way too self-conscious of your own body. Everybody seems to have just materialize from the cover of a magazine, models so skinny and well shaped that makes you arrange your arms in front of your stomach, trying to hide the sight. Your friends smile brightly, telling you’ll get used soon and then drag you to met her newest crush.

It’s your third glass of champagne, meaning your head it’s slowly getting lighter. Your friend is busy talking with another gorgeous guy you’ve never seen before and, realizing you were being a third wheel, you choose to settle down next to the window sill while appreciating the city lights and chilly breeze. At least no one is weirding staring at your seclusion, too occupied with their own chitchat to notice your loneliness.

You notice him in the blink of an eye.

A whole year had gone by since you two last talked. You aren’t an intern anymore, but an editor, working hard to become a columnist as soon as you graduated. All you know is that he is a regular player at Schweiden Adlers, a V. League Division 1 Volleyball Team – you were _so_ proud when you heard the news for the first time that it felt like he was an old friend.

You told yourself many times you were over with this platonic crush. You dated two or three different guys, and none of your relationships worked out because you’re always too busy with college and work. Maybe it was better this way, keeping things casual and simple and that it doesn’t have any relation to your old feelings towards a certain volleyball ace.

_Even though, he’s alone and you’re alone so there’s no problem in approaching for a casual chat, right?_

“Didn’t expect to see you again.”

You hope your words don’t seem to _stalkerish_ considering they are the same ones he said to you a year ago. You’re not quite ready to what you see when he turns around - his large and muscular body perfectly fitted in a dark suit with a purple shirt beneath it; even his hair is formally styled.

For a second you think he doesn’t recognize you and feel anxious for the first time, as if the alcohol in your blood is suddenly gone, making you aware of your actions. But he calls your surname in a whisper and you smile because his voice it’s _probably_ one of your favorite sounds in the world.

_You wish he could call your name everyday._

“I was actually hoping to see you again.” You don’t expect his answer and blush a bit, knowing too well that the alcohol is not the reason for the redness of your cheeks. Your tongue stumbles a bit, and suddenly it’s like all of the words flew out of your head and you’re unable to create a single phrase – just like a high school girl. You’re glad he is able to continue the conversation. “I’ve never seen you in cocktails like these.”

“It’s my first time actually,” you feel self-conscious once again, noticing that for him to say something like this, he must participate in similar events. Suddenly, you remember it’s not a talk between two friends from the same school, but between a volleyball star and an ordinary aspiring journalist. The voice inside your head screams _‘you don’t belong here’_ once again “but I never imagined you are used to attend events like these.”

“It’s only a formality.” He’s staring at the city now and you join him, supporting your arms on the glass railing. “My agent obliges me to come so I can meet our sponsors.”

“You don’t like it?” It’s almost a whisper, like you two are sharing a secret from people who actually enjoy being in an environment like this.

“I’d rather be playing volleyball.”

His answer makes you laugh and for a second, he looks at you slightly offended.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that,” you take a breath, smiling back at him. He’s gorgeous, the stoic and confused expression making your drunken brain realize that if you get just a bit closer (and stand on your tiptoes) you can reach his lips. _Haven’t you been dreaming about this for so long? Do it._ “I really admire how honest you always are, Ushijima-san.”

His name sounds foreign on your lips and at the same time _so sweet_ , and you hope that he feels the same. Your inner self whispers _infamous words_ and your brain start bursting with memories of old wet dreams, of you moaning his name and Ushijima using his lengthy and skilled fingers to-

You steady yourself for a second, tightening your hold on the railing to remember where you are and _who_ you’re with. It’s a golden chance in years to talk with the man you’ve admired since high school and instead of talking, your stupid mind chooses to have dirty thoughts about him. It’s so disrespectful that you scold yourself mentally.

“People usually say I’m rude,” his words reach your ears and bring you back to reality. “but Tendou says that I should get better. That skill and strength are everything – in volleyball and social life.”

“I think you are amazing.”

You tell him, bowing and resting your cheek on the railway. It is one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen, Tokyo city in its night glory – you can see each light and imagine all the lives out there, all the stories, struggles and happiness that so many people are feeling inside their little apartments and houses.

There are no stars or moon at the sky and the breeze is cold, but you’re standing besides Ushijima Wakatoshi and your drunken mind decides it’s a good time to recall a few things.

“The first time I saw you play was during Spring High, against Karasuno. I had never watched a volleyball match before and couldn’t understand anything that was happening on the court, but as soon as I saw you jumping and hitting a ball at the other side, I just felt,” you stop, closing your eyes, freshening the memory. “I felt breathless. You were – still are actually - so strong and unstoppable that it was like _I_ was strong and unstoppable too. I felt like I could be like you if I tried hard enough.”

He doesn’t answer for a few minutes, and you’re about to tell him to forget your words, when he speaks again.

“We lost though.”

“I know,” you smile once more with his honest words, this time staring directly at him instead of watching the landscape. “and you were absolutely amazing even though, exactly because you accepted your defeat and stood proudly. Not many are able to do it.”

“It was the only thing I could do after losing.”

You don’t answer him, instead choosing to regard his inability to read people. You don’t know anyone like Ushijima, anyone as strong and amazing and at the same time as honest and open as him. You two exchanged few words over the years, but you feel like you can tell him anything, and you wished he could feel the same way about you. Your consciousness bothers you again.

_You’re not friends._

You stand up and stretch your back.

_But it’s my chance to change this._

“Want to head out of here and grab some Hayashi Rice Stew?” You ask him bluntly, not pondering for even a second that you could be rudely rejected and pretending that inviting him to eat one of his favorite foods is just a coincidence. “I know a place that is probably still open.”

He looks inside, probably searching for his agent. He stares for so long that you believe he’ll have to ask her permission. The other option is that he is finding the correct words to reject your invitation – which doesn’t seem like him at all. If he wanted to reject you, he would’ve broken your heart remorseless. He finally turns his face back to you.

“Sure.”

(that night you find out he reads all of the ads from the sports magazine you work for)

(and that _sometimes_ he reads your articles as well)


	5. how you go on a date

As soon as you wake up, you reach your cellphone to make sure last night really happened, and _yes_ , you do have a contact named Ushijima Wakatoshi on your list. And at least 20 messages asking _where the hell are you fucking whore_ from your friend – you can hear her laugh at the back of your mind, and imagine her next malicious comment, asking about your night.

It seems a bit too early to get in contact again, but even though you write an innocently ask if he was able to get up early to go to practice. It’s a surprise to you when in less than a minute a notification chimes on your cellphone: a simple ‘yes’ from him and it’s quite enough to make you happy. When another message ‘are you hangover?’ gets to you, you understand that just like he did yesterday, he’s doing his best to keep a conversation.

You text each other every day. Sometimes Ushijima takes a long time to answer, probably due to his trainings, but he always answers it – even with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. For a long time, you though he would be the kind of guy who never answers or don’t like virtual contact, so you’re pretty satisfied when you realize he’s just socially awkward online _and_ in real life.

Amazingly, it’s not hard to find common subjects to talk about. Sometimes you ask about his training, sometimes you tell him about your work at the magazine or about college, sometimes you two just share what you’re doing at the moment. Your recent achievement was to send him a picture of your coffee at 6 am before heading to work and receiving a photo reply – an empty gym with the subtitles ‘practice’.

Two weeks go by in the blink of an eye. You’re doing your best at work and college, reserving time to talk as much as you can with Ushijima. It’s a Friday night and after knowing that your friend just ended up his training, you unassuming ask him if he would like to blow off some steam and head somewhere for dinner. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything and that it’s not a date, but your heart loses its beats as soon as he tells answers that he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to blow a steam, but that he would like to eat something.

You two met up in a traditional, cozy little restaurant in Asakusa; he’s wearing a white jacket and has his sport bag besides him while you’re still wearing your tube skirt and blazer, coming straight from work. It’s so easy being around Ushijima that you forget how the hours go by as you make small talk and he eats silently, patiently listening, sometimes making honest comments.

When you two are done eating, he once again pays up for you, even after your protests – something about how Tendou once told him that it’s a gentlemanly thing to do. It’s a rainy night so you two stands together, _so close that your shoulders touch_ , under the awning outside the store, waiting for your respectively rides to go home. There’s a comfortable silence in the air because you got used to Ushijima’s lack of words.

The sound of the rain soothes your heart and you smile timidly, feeling wholly satisfied with the place and the person you’re with now, completely unaware that he’s watching and trying to understand the reason for the contempt expression on your features.

Ushijima opens up his mouth, but no sound comes out and he wonder why it’s so hard for him to make a simple invitation. He called Tendo and in a minute asked him if he would like tickets for his next game, but now that’s he’s trying to do the same to you the thought that you might be busy or reject him makes him uneasy.

“There’s a game next Tuesday,” he starts, facing the wood building on the other side of the street, another restaurant. He watches as a couple leaves the place hand in hand, sharing an umbrella feeling and he feels a bit uncomfortable with the PDA display. “I’ll be a regular.”

“Oh, I heard about it.” You answer, trying to keep the conversation flowing. “It’s the first V. League Division 1 game this season, right? Are you nervous about it?”

“We are practicing a lot. I’m confident.” You smile once again amazed by his self-assurance, then Ushijima finally looks back at you, and you notice how he seems a bit troubled. You wait a few more minutes while he stares directly at you, his gaze so firm and cold that you think if he is about to ramble how you two should never see each other again. “Do you want tickets?”

You blink a few times confused with his words. Is he trying to sell you tickets to the game, giving them to you or subtly asking if you want to cheer for him? You burn a few neurons formulating hypothesis on your head. Until you realize that it’s Ushijima you’re talking to – as long as you ask what he means, he will give you an honest and direct answer.

“Do you want me to,” you start fumbling with your own words and wiggling your hands anxiously. Ushijima is probably one of the few men able to make you embarrassed with a single question. “do you want me to watch your game?”

“Yes. If you want to. Not as a journalist, but as a-” he stops for a second, pondering which was the right word to use. Would you be offended? “As a friend.”

His blunt answer makes you open a huge smile. _Of course, it would be much better to be called a date, but you accept your fate with bliss_. A car stops next to both of you, and instead of expressing how his invitation makes you happy, you awkwardly open the car’s door and turns to him blushing a bit before getting in.

“I would love to cheer for you, Ushijima-kun. Please let me know when you have more information.”

He nods and you exchange a few words, thanking him for accepting your invitation to dinner and finally saying your goodbyes. The whole ride home your mind is filled with different scenarios of how it would be like to watch him play, how you would give your best to cheer and support him before and afterwards the game.

You try to contain your imagination, try not to let your expectations get too high. When you finally lie down comfortably on your bed, your mind releases its darkest daydreams and desires – and you allow yourself this moment of whim.

(you dream of courts, volleyballs and his lips)


	6. how you realize he doesn't need you

It’s one of the most amazing volleyball matches you’ve ever seen – so intense and strained that many times you find yourself with stiffen fingers and out of breath. To watch Ushijima playing once again feels _unreal_ , and even after so many years you have the same feeling as the day when you watched him play for the vey first time. You’ve been to many games through your sports journalist career, but it’s the first-time seating and _just watching_ instead of getting notes on everything that’s happening on court.

You smile widely during the whole game, and even gets an extremely discreet greeting from Ushijima when he realizes you’re seating in one of the front rows, due to his tickets. It’s a five-set game, fierce and complicated for both teams. You do your best to cheer not only to Ushijima, but also the other Adler’s players, who are just as fascinating and talented as Ushijima.

It’s not enough.

They lose. 

You’re still walking through the gym’s corridors one hour afterwards. Other games are happening, but you’re not interested in any of them. The cellphone in your hands it’s almost out of battery and you can’t find the courage to send Ushijima a message. You wrote a few options like ‘I’m sorry’; ‘you did your best!’ and even a risky one with the words ‘I’m really proud of you’ but ended up erasing all of them.

You know how volleyball is important to Ushijima, how it’s his passion. But you could never understand how he feels right now, because you’ve never dedicated yourself so much to something – of course, you always did your best to study, to get in a good university and even a good job. Even so, you feel like those are completely different situations – Ushijima have been playing volleyball since he was a little kid.

It’s not his last game, but that doesn’t make a defeat less sad.

A notification pop ups on your cellphone and a ‘Have you gone home?’ with his name appears on your scream. You’re extremally glad he contacts you first – it’s easier to postpone your comment about the game. Your reply is a simple ‘still here’ and two minutes later there’s a reply: ‘could you wait for me in the back?’. For a second your coward chunk tells you to ignore him and run away because you’re not _any_ good at consoling, but your fingers are already typing a ‘yes’.

_Because that’s what friends do, right?_

You didn’t expect to find Ushijima Wakatoshi with his 192 cm and professional history sobbing after a loss, but also didn’t expect to see him so composed. He meets you after 20 minutes, greeting and thanking you for watching the game and for waiting for him – he doesn’t mention his loss. You are about to say how amazing he was during the game when he talks again.

“Can we go for a walk?”

You nod, suddenly aware of the atmosphere. The sky is painted in a mixture of red and orange and during the walk you two watch students in their uniforms, probably heading home after their after-class activities. The autumn breeze is cold and makes you remember that soon you’ll need to wear heavier clothes. You are not walking anywhere in particular, but you recognize a few streets.

Ushijima’s legs are much longer than yours, but he seems to patiently match his steps to walk by your side, staying weirdly quiet even considering his introspective personality. You try to say something to cut the uncomfortable silence, the silence that keeps you two so far apart from each other, even when he’s only a few feet away - but you are unable to start a conversation. You feel like it means to rudely invade his personal space, so you patiently wait until he’s ready.

“I got good because I was lucky.” He starts, as if he’s talking to himself. “I practiced a lot too, but I was lucky to reach so high. I was lucky to meet worthy opponents and people who helped me. I’m lucky to still be playing volleyball, to be able to stand so long in the court. I was lucky my dad chose to protect my gift.”

You silently watch how he stares at his left hand.

“I managed to get on a world level team and realized that my strength as it was, wasn’t enough to win. I had to destroy my best weapon and rebuild it. I practiced as much as I could and got good, and even now I need to reinvent myself and understand that my greatest strength is forever incomplete – I need to keep improving, everyday.”

“That’s what means to lose. Recognize that you need to get better.” You stop on your tracks after hearing his words and Ushijima turns to you. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s just! You are so!” You miserably try to dry your own tears, to contain the sobs slowly rising on your throat. You feel _miserable_ by his side, so small and powerless – you were supposed to cheer him, teel him that it’s okay to lose and that next time you’re sure he’ll win, but all you can do is listen to his words and slowly realize that _he doesn’t need you_.

He doesn’t need your words or your help because he has all figured out by himself.

You can’t stop the tears from spilling because this recognition hurts you.

And the fact that you feel _this_ , that you’re so _selfish,_ wounds you even more.

You crouch and hide your face on your hands, unable to complete your own sentence. You want to run away, you want to tell him the truth and at the same time, to just keep crying. It’s ashaming that you’re the one crying, and not the volleyball player who just lost a game.

Even though, Ushijima crouch next to you and silently waits. He doesn’t ask the reason why you’re crying or why you’re hiding yourself from him. He doesn’t invade your personal space, and doesn’t seem to mind waiting until you’re yourself again. You realize he’s probably unconsciously repeating your own actions, when instead of pressuring him for a conversation you just waited for him to start the conversation.

“I really admire you, Ushijima-kun.” You finally announce, wiping your last tears and slowly composing yourself. “You’re confident, honest, strong, gentle, hard-working, smart and always thankful for the ones surrounding you. I mean, it’s not fair for you to be so good at everything, you know?” You smile a bit, laughing awkwardly. “Leave some virtues to other people, okay?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he says, confused. “As a human I also have flaws, and even if I wanted to, it’s impossible to share my virtues with other people. Everyone should aim to find their own strength.”

“I know.” You whisper back, taking a deep breath. “The truth is that I wanted to cheer you up after your defeat, but you have all figured out.”

“But you are here. I can be exactly how I am right now because you’re here, listening to me.” He says, offering a hand so you can get up once again. He calls your name and completes his line. “I’m really lucky I’ve met you.”

You try to contain your body; you _really_ try, doing your best to stop yourself and repress all of your unrequited feelings in that little box inside the deepest part of your heart. That little unspoken secret, the numbness that exists inside of you and a taboo that must not be spoken of – because you know no good will ever come from it.

It’s not enough to stop yourself.

You cross the distance between your lips too fast for Ushijima to understand your intentions. It’s a light peck, the sensation of his lips on yours lingering only for a second, so innocent and fast that you wonder if it happened at all; _but yes, it did_ , and now Ushijima is staring straight at you, visibly tense and uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you immediately panic, standing up in a second. “please just pretend this never happened and-“

“I can’t,” he replies, so affirmative that your body shakes and your eyes water, because you destroyed everything once more. This time the damage is irreparable. “I don’t want to.”

You close your eyes, but instead of being left behind, you feel his strong and rough hand on your right cheek.

“Because all I want to do right now is kiss you.” his dark olive eyes don’t leave yours, and his expression is as fierce as always. You stand still, unable to understand if this is just one of your weird dreams. “Can I?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi always bluntly says exactly what’s in his mind, the reason why people think he’s tactless or rude. He doesn’t sugar-coat or mince his words, and sometimes he hurt people, but right now, you believe it’s his best trait - you never want him to change.

“I’ve been yearning this for a long time, Ushijima-kun” you whisper, smiling. “So please, don’t leave me waiting any longer.”

(the sky is no longer colored orange, but you are too busy memorizing how his lips perfectly fits against yours to notice)


	7. how you become breathless

It’s like you two made a silent deal. The week goes by without a single message from you and neither from him. You do your best to focus on your job, but there’s a daily reminder of Adler’s next game at your friend’s wall since she’s covering the volleyball season, and sometimes you get yourself looking at it and sighting.

Your last time with Ushijima seems like a distant dream – how you kissed and he walked you home. How you woke up expecting a message but never got one, and how you would text him later but never had the courage to. A whole week in silence could only mean two things: he’s too occupied with his upcoming match or he doesn’t want any kind of contact. The later looks much more realistic considering that he always found time to text you.

Before starting your Fridays’ shift, you finally decide that it’s childish to keep doing this and send him a nice ‘hi’ with a wink emoji. He doesn’t reply, so when you get home after a stressing day, you decide to open that bottle of wine you’ve been saving for a special occasion and watch Netflix on your sofa until you’re too drunk to stay awake – a _really_ unhealthy coping mechanism.

You’re drinking your third glass when someone knocks at the door – and you tell yourself you should’ve have told your friend that you don’t want to go to that bar instead of just ignoring her.

“Look, I sorry I didn’t reply. But you’re not dragging me around this time, okay-“you stop midsentence, staring in shock at the tall man on your doorstep.

“I didn’t intend to drag you.” Ushijima replies with a slightly confused expression. “But if you’re busy I can come back later.”

“What-“ you try to arrange your hair and your clothes, glad that you choose to dress something half decent while at home. “What are you doing here?”

Ushijima ponders for a second, choosing carefully his next words. You don’t think you’re prepared to hear anything that he has to say, but you stand still, tightening the grip on your knob. Trying to steady yourself for his rejection – as if you didn’t get the memo after a week of silent treatment (even if you’ve done the same to him).

“I broke my cellphone.” You blink a few times, as if he was speaking an unknown language. “I dropped it at the river, and asked if anyone knew you or had your cellphone, but no one had. I tried calling your work, but they didn’t want to give any personal information to a stranger. Somehow, I was able to talk with your friend, the one who was with you in my interview a few years ago. He told me you like surprises so I should come by your apartment instead of calling.”

It’s probably the first time you hear Ushijima talking so much in a same sentence. You’re still awkwardly staring at him, waiting for him to say that he’s only joking – there’s absolutely no way that someone like him would be in so much trouble only to contact you. You think about asking why he didn’t send you a message in Instagram or Facebook, but you can’t imagine him using social networks.

“Are you serious?” is all you manage to say.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t been weirdly ignoring me for a whole week?”

“Why would I do that?” he blinks a few times and you smile widely, praying that this is not one of your weird dreams again. Until your expectations are once again ruined with only a few words. “We should talk though.”

“Come in.” You give him space to walk and he take his shoes off after asking apologies for intruding.

You take a deep breath and stare at the closed door for a few seconds before leading him to your sofa. Suddenly your apartment feels too limited for someone as huge and important as Ushijima; you try not to be too self-conscious about your simple furniture and television – and you wonder what kind of place Ushijima must live; probably somewhere huge with a lot of fancy furniture and open spaces that only really rich people can have. If he’s uncomfortable he doesn’t mention it.

“I need to tell you that-“ he starts, as bluntly as ever, not wasting a single second.

“Please!” you interrupt him. “Let me talk first.”

You’ve been waiting for much, _much_ more time than him. You’ve been waiting with these feelings inside your chest since you were a high school girl. And after a week of _waiting_ and crying and creating hundreds of scenarios in your head you realize how much this been affecting you, holding you back from everything else.

You spent years of your life looking at his back, waiting for him to magically notice you standing right behind him. It wasn’t healthy for you. You wasted time and energy and kept away people who could’ve made you happy – and this week of silence allowed you to ponder about it.

“I need to tell you the truth.” You stare at him, moving your fingers anxiously. “I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

You expect him to be surprised, scared even; but Ushijima still looks attentively at you, as if he heard something important, but not uncommon. Somehow you feel glad that he doesn’t think you’re a stalker or something, but you’d be calmer if he could be a bit more expressive.

“From the first time I watched you play, I admired you profoundly. You were everything I always dreamed of – strong, determined, honest, powerful and confident. You chased your dreams; you gave everything you had on your volleyball games and you admitted your defeat. You used it to become even stronger – you reached a V1 League team, got into a world level team!”

“You are a left-handed person, Ushijima. Someone who people consider weird and _wrong_ , but you contradicted everyone and made it your special trait, your strength! Do you have any idea how many people who watch you from afar feel? Do you have any idea how _I_ felt when I watched you for the first time? How I still feel every time I watch you?”

You are breathless and sobbing again, but you don’t allow him to answer. You’re not done yet.

“You’re flawless because even being amazing as you are, you’re not arrogant. You still try to look at your flaws, you ask for advices, you do your best to communicate. You even accepted to get dinner with a weird girl like me.” You stop once more to mend your breath, to wipe your tears, to stare straight at him. “You’re the scariest, most honest and strongest man I’ve met. I could never live up to your expectations; I can never be as good as you; I could never compare to you. But, even though…”

“Even though… How can I **not** be in love with you?”

You feel weightless. Sitting on your sofa, wiping your own tears with the sleeve of your sweater. After so many years of holding back, you finally feel like a heavy burden it’s gone – which doesn’t necessarily mean that it doesn’t hurts. Your incapability, your insecurity, your fear of rejection still makes your body shake. You know that independently of Ushijima’s answer, you will suffer.

No one is able to love for so much time and suddenly forget; but now that you said everything you wanted to, now that you said it out loud and made everything _real_ , you feel like there’s a bright future for you. You won’t look for him in the news, or at sports events, or ask your boss if maybe you could cover this volleyball season only to get the chance of seeing him once again.

“I-“ he tries to start a sentence and you realize how you might have broke him with so much information and feelings. Throwing everything you had in you for him to handle in a few minutes. It’s easy to notice how his expression is heavy. You are about to apologize when he bows respectfully and complete his sentence. “I’m extremely grateful for all of your feelings.”

_Indeed, this is how things end._

_You should’ve known._

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me for this long. It’s an honor that you have such a high concept of me.” He’s still looking down, and you suddenly ashamed for exposing yourself so much. “But you should know that I have many flaws, Tendou knows most of them. And my strength it’s not my own, but a consequence of everyone I crossed paths with.”

“Including you.” He raises his posture and peer you. “You are strong too. I could never express my feelings like you just did. You’re focused and hard-working, and always taking care of people around you. We are very similar somehow.”

You smile at him, waiting for the _but_ part of the sentence. _It’s coming_ , you know that. And even being prepared, you still feel like your heart will be broken into a million pieces.

“I don’t understand what love is.” His words surprise you. Ushijima is staring at his left hand, as if contains an answer.

“It’s a figurative thing and I’m not good understanding figurative languages or jokes. Although, I know that I don’t want to stay away from you. I missed your texts this week. During the game, I wished you were watching. I feel like I can be even stronger if you’re watching me.”

Instead of looking down, he looks straight at your eyes.

“You make me _feel_ things I don’t understand.”

_Is this real or just another dream?_

_Please, I don’t want to wake up this time._

“I can’t understand if that’s a bad or a good, Ushijima-kun.”

“It means I really want to keep experiencing these things. With you. If you want to.”

_How long you’ve been waiting for this moment?_

You wrap your arms gently around his back, and after a few seconds of being weirdly confused about how he should react, Ushijima finally holds you back. You sunk into the warmth of his body and appreciate how your head fits perfectly against his neck. You close your eyes and think about how this – as weird as it is – it’s much better than anything you could ever dream of.

Ushijima’s big and strong arms doesn’t lose its strength, he wraps your body very protectively and gently, as if he could break you. He doesn’t seem to mind being like this with you _just a bit longer_ , so you enjoy every second of it.

You don’t know what the two of you are. Friends? Lovers? You’re not sure. All that matters is that you are right by his side, not looking over his back. You love him, but you’re no longer _dependent_ of him, of the image you created of him. You will learn with him, but also teach him.

His arms are surrounding you.

You are holding him.

It’s enough.

(Ushijima Wakatoshi makes you lose your breath)

(you chose to stay by his side for as long as you can)

(airless)

**Author's Note:**

> I know this chapter is short, but I promise the others will be longer.  
> This actually was supposed to be a chapter of another fanfiction I have, but I ended up loving the story I created and turned it into a new fanfiction. Hope you guys keep reading it!
> 
> Also, I'm a non-native english speaker. Therefore you might notice a few weird sentences or mistakes.  
> If you are able to, please let me know and I'll try to correct immediately.  
> 


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